


Strong Brew

by trascendenza



Category: Eastwick (TV), Psych
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-11
Updated: 2010-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-11 19:38:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/pseuds/trascendenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"Really? I'm talking about a possible supernatural roofying and you're critiquing my quaint colloquialisms?"</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Strong Brew

"I'll eat you for lunch, little boy," Roxie said, running a fingertip down the side of Shawn's face.

"And I promise you I'll enjoy that very, very much," he said, nipping at her knuckle.

"I'm a witch, you know," she said, crowding him up against the wall, hips pinning his. "I see into the future."

"What a coincedence," he said, voice going up an octave when her fingers slid into the waistband of his jeans. "I'm a psychic."

"And what is that big old sixth sense of yours telling you about me?" She whispered into his ear, her tongue flicking the lobe.

"That if I play my cards right you'll leave me walking around like a bandy-legged cowboy for the next week," he said, hands scrabbling up under her shirt, but then he stopped, tilting his head to the side. "Or maybe those are just my 14-year old fantasies talking. Either way, win-win."

"Saddle up," she said, shoving her hand lower, grinning when Shawn squeaked.

*

"Wow," Roxie said, splayed out naked on her back, her hair in a wild curled mess all over the pillow.

"Yeah," Shawn agreed, also splayed out naked on his back, but his hair was a much smaller wild spiky mess.

"That was..."

"Yeah," Shawn said, nodding.

Roxie turned her head to look at him. "What'd you say your name was again?"

"Shawn Spencer," he said, flashing her a charming smile and holding out his hand. "Head Psychic for the Santa Barbara Police Department."

"I thought you were just lying about that to impress me," she said, propping her head up her hand after shaking his. "You're seriously a psychic?"

"I'm not seriously anything," he said, "but I've successfully solved over fifty cases for our local constabulary using only the amazing powers of my mind, so you can be the judge of that."

"Nice," she said, giving him a long, lingering look. Shawn pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side as she did so, like he was posing for a shoot. "And, hey, if you've figured out how the hell to control your visions, I'm all ears. I'm still trying to get the hang of this stuff."

"Oh, come on," Shawn said, blowing air out between his lips like he was about to say something incredibly absurd, "seeing in the future? That's just crazy talk."

Roxie frowned at him. "How's that any crazier than you being psychic?"

"I see into the _present._ Way different."

She rolled her eyes. "I can see you're going to be a big fat help. Just like --" Roxie stopped, blinking like she'd just snapped out of a daydream. "That's weird. Neither of us got to finish talking to Eleanor, did we? One minute, we were asking her questions, the next..."

"I got these lovely little reminders of our time together in Eastwick's one and only almost-seedy-but-no-not-really-seedy-at-all-because-it's-Eastwick alley?" Shawn said, turning on his side so the distinctly brick-shaped imprints on his ass were visible. They weren't as noticeable as they'd been, earlier, but faint red outlines were still distinguishable. He made a thumbs-up sign. "Best souvenir _ever._ "

"Right," Roxie said, smiling and looking embarrassed at the same time. "Sorry about that. I swear I'm not usually that rough."

"I'm just snowballing, here," Shawn said, gesturing elaborating with his right hand, "but I'm thinking that white powder the mean old lady poured into our tea wasn't sugar."

"Snowballing?" Roxie said. "I don't think that means what you think it means."

"Really? I'm talking about a possible supernatural roofying and you're critiquing my quaint colloquialisms?"

She shrugged. "It's just hard to get to the rest of your point when I'm stuck on the image of you giving a hot dude a blow job. So sue me."

He considered. "Understandable. How do you feel about pancakes?"

Roxie grinned. "Pretty damn good. You offering?"

"Actually, that was just part of the informal survey I'm conducting to gauge the general populace's feelings towards griddle-fried quick breads, but now that you mention it, I could eat."

"Mmm," she said, propping herself up on an elbow and giving him a once-over. "I think you'll look good in my apron."

"I'll griddle-fry you a pannekoek that will make you weep with battered joy," Shawn promised, nibbling at her jawline. "And I may wear nothing but the apron."

"In a few minutes," Roxie said, snaking her hand down and grinning when Shawn squeaked.

**Author's Note:**

> I really can't believe I inadvertently wrote a fic where Shawn's mother's doppelganger sex pollinates him. Dear brain: what up with that?


End file.
